A drug-free Mexico is not possible, but one that causes less harm is

Drugs have always been around. They were here in the 80’s when cocaine arrived in Mexico City and hooked my father’s generation. They were also here in my grandfather’s alcoholism, and in my aunt’s addiction to [anxiety medication] Tafil.

They were there among friends who took psychedelics and went out dancing to electronic music and among those who demonized illegal substances and got so drunk they lost consciousness.

They were here in the ’90s with the “Vive sin drogas” (Live without drugs) campaign, and in 2006 when former Mexican president Felipe Calderón sent the Army into the streets of Michoacán and declared war on the cartels.

They were here when we started seeing people hanging from bridges and, through tragic events, we came to know places like Ayotzinapa, Creel, and San Fernando.

They’ve been associated with every political party. With every drug lord. With the lawyers who use them and the psychiatrists who heal with them.

They were here even before us. There are more than a hundred species of animals that get high for pleasure.

The prohibition that governs over us today is an anomaly that began in the 20th century and reached its peak in 1971, when the United States—and, by extension, the world—declared drugs “public enemy number one.” Psychoactive plants and substances—those that alter the central nervous system and modify perceptions, moods, or behaviors—are closely linked to the history of humanity. They have evolved from being sacred and used in rituals (mushrooms, peyote, ayahuasca) to becoming cornerstones of medicine (opium and cocaine) and an economic engine from which empires have been built (tobacco, coffee, alcohol).

More than half a century of the war on drugs has neither eliminated them nor reduced their use. Quite the opposite.

In the beginning of this war, the global market was dominated by a handful of psychoactive substances. Today, the early warning systems of the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) have identified nearly 1,400 new ones, many of which are cheaper, more potent, and easier to produce and traffic. According to UNODC, 331 million people use some type of illegal substance—34% more than a decade ago. It also acknowledges that 89% of users do not develop problematic use.

Even so, prohibition has created its own addictions to war and the prison industry. Drug trafficking is the world’s most lucrative illegal business. The legal machinery used to combat it generates billions each year. This strategy has also served as an instrument of social and geopolitical control, allowing states to justify the militarization of territories, surveillance, and the criminalization of marginalized populations.

For more than a decade, I reported on how drug trafficking and prohibitionist policies affect the Americas—from the United States to Chile—and saw the same stories repeating themselves: deaths and massacres in the name of narcotics; drug traffickers involved in politics and police officers collaborating with organized crime; users hooked on crack or opioids with no way to quit; criminalized users, missing persons; peasants exploited by criminal groups and persecuted by the state; women imprisoned for shielding their husbands; and youths in search of money and identity who find a sense of purpose in criminal groups.

This year marks the 20th anniversary of a war in Mexico that, according to the government’s own data, has left more than half a million dead and over 135,000 people missing. This strategy did not eliminate organized crime. Rather, it fragmented it into dozens of smaller, more violent cells, leading to territorial disputes, protection rackets, and forced displacement. Perhaps there is no more powerful image to represent the failure of the war than that of thousands of “searching mothers” storming the World Cup in search of justice.

What is the point of repeating the same policies over and over again when their failure is no longer a matter of opinion?

My generation grew up with “Just Say No,” a campaign that popularized prohibition during the Ronald Reagan administration and was adopted by governments around the world. It falsely promised a drug-free generation and a decline in crime while legitimizing laws that promoted harsher penalties and the incarceration of Black and Latino communities. The many versions of “Say No to Drugs” shaped the way we understand drugs.

We grew up believing the official narrative without questioning how it institutionalizes violence and racism while a few profit at the expense of the most vulnerable. Governments around the world have justified the war on drugs as if there were no other alternative for dealing with psychoactive substances.

But since the 1980s, harm reduction alternatives have existed—a set of public health policies and practices that seek to minimize the negative consequences of substance use. Instead of judging or punishing, this model accepts the reality that drug use exists in society and seeks to prioritize people’s health, safety, and dignity.

In Mexico, civil society organizations have saved lives in supervised consumption rooms along the border and have succeeded in making involuntary detention illegal throughout the country. They succeeded in having the absolute prohibition of cannabis recognized as unconstitutional and in establishing a regulatory framework for its medical use. Activists, lawyers, academics, researchers, health care workers, and public policy experts have championed amnesty laws and are studying phenomena such as militarization and drug use. They work with victims and historically marginalized communities to seek justice and redress the harm caused by prohibition. It is thanks to this movement that Mexico City now has a harm-reduction approach through the Institute for Mental Health and Addiction Care (IASAMA), and drug-related issues are beginning to be viewed from other perspectives in public discourse.

We are all tired of the terror inflicted by criminal groups and being unable to trust the authorities. Regardless of age, gender, or political party, we all want a Mexico with less harm.

Under this premise, Menos Daño emerged—a platform comprising 10 civil society organizations (open to adding more). This platform advocates for a drug policy centered on social justice, risk and harm reduction, and human rights. The goal is not to replace the false utopia they sold us with another one. Harm reduction involves accepting that substances have always been here and that, among other things, we need policies that educate and prevent the problematic drug use that causes so much damage to the family unit. It’s not just about saying “no.”

Menos Daño proposes concrete, evidence-based political and social changes, such as making naloxone—to reverse overdoses from fentanyl and other opioids— a declassified drug, expanding tolerance zones and clarifying cannabis legislation, recognizing indigenous communities’ uses of ancestral plants and the rights of people who use drugs, as well as enacting an Amnesty Law in Mexico City, training more police officers, and reducing the number of military personnel on the streets.

The work of México Unido contra la Delincuencia, Instituto RIA, Elementa DDHH, Disentir, Cea Justicia Social, Verter, Prevencasa, Programa Compañeros, Xquenda Artes, and the Asociación del Programa de Política de Drogas seeks a historic shift in the way drug policies in Mexico are formulated.

In our country, the last 20 years have been marked by trauma and tragedy: shootings, murders, and disappearances. Amid this daily mourning, we have the opportunity to take control of history. A drug-free Mexico is not possible, but one with less harm is.

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